


Totentanz

by SolitaryViolence



Series: Wenn du mich brauchst, komm ich zu dir [3]
Category: Elisabeth - Levay/Kunze, Historical RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Casual Sex, F/M, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Mild Blood, Mild Language, Omniscient Narrator, Pre-Suicide, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Relationships, brief mention of a blood kink, though its nothing smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:50:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23935714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolitaryViolence/pseuds/SolitaryViolence
Summary: Soon will you dance your last, sweet prince.
Relationships: Rudolf von Österreich-Ungarn | Rudolf Crown Prince of Austria/Der Tod | Death (Elisabeth), Rudolf von Österreich-Ungarn/Marie Alexandrine von Vetsera
Series: Wenn du mich brauchst, komm ich zu dir [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636456
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	Totentanz

**Author's Note:**

> Part three of WDMB. I do hope y'all don't mind the sudden change in POV! Also, I'm sorry it's so short. Writer's block and all that (she says, as she procrastinates writing her multichapter).

_Macabre_.

I think that’s a rather apt term, wouldn’t you agree?

Your macabre dance with Death, your disjointed and frantic waltz, began when you were but a lonely child deprived of a mother’s love. He offered up the comfort you so desperately yearned for, and you practically fell right into his shielding arms.

Now, dear prince, you are grown. You’ve had plenty of time to flee, to escape his hold, to pry yourself away from his icy fingers. Yet, still, you dance on and on, yielding yourself to his twisted desires. Is this really dancing?

Or are you being puppeted?

A mere marionette is all you are, Rudolf. He skulks amongst the ever-growing shadows and pulls the strings. You, foolishly, obey his every command without question, you bend over backwards to his will. Sad, isn’t it?

This world is so _corrupt_ , you tell him. Looming over your shoulder, he shoots you an odd look, one you cannot quite make out. After all, it’s hard to decipher anything when you’re so pissed.

Drinking and, well, a different kind of dancing are the only two activities that please you these days, huh? How pitiful. It is most fortunate for you that he doesn’t scorn your excessive philandering. Of course, you two both know those witless doxies cannot hold a candle to him. Though the warmth may provide temporary relief, once one begins to burn, one will always seek the sweet, enveloping embrace of the cold. And you burn, dear Rudolf, you _burn_ like the sun! Death is the ice that melts into your wounds and soothes, the ice that numbs the unbearable and unrelenting agony, if only for a short while.

He relishes your suffering, does he not? Each time you mutilate and mar yourself, he is more than happy to lap up the crimson that cascades down your forearms as if he were but a loyal puppy. Each time you drink yourself blind, he is the one to drag your limp body back to your quarters. Each time you find yourself carelessly toying with your daggers, he is not far behind, lurking in the shadows, stalking his prey and smirking as he does so. Each time you find yourself staring down the barrel of a gun, contemplating, he is there, whispering into your ear, his cool, leather-clad hand on your tremulous shoulder.

Oh, now this is interesting. Who is _this_?

Baroness Mary von Vetsera, huh? Surely, you can’t be attracted to _this_? She is a mere child! Gullible and unworldly and-

Oh, I see now. So, that’s your plan?

_Macabre_.

How very, very macabre.

My, it’s almost time, isn’t it?

Soon will you dance your last, sweet prince. Though, your last dance may not be the type you’ve accustomed yourself to.


End file.
